


just two lost souls

by IsleofSolitude



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Open ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: They've made it through to the other side. Coping comes in many forms.





	just two lost souls

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by @rizcriz 's story "hot water on wool" and written with their permission. You don't have to read that for this to make sense, but you should totally read it because it's so good.

The curtain was drawn tight, and the rain  pounding against the glass made a lovely echo to the pounding in his skull. The door was mostly closed, but he could hear them talking outside, even through the thrum thrum thrum between his ears, behind his face.

“He hasn’t showered in weeks? Not counting the unhealthy aspect, that’s pretty gross.”

“Shh. It’s just a lot going on…”

“That’s crap. He used to shower all the time. Never left any hot water for anyone else. He found the time even with that Mon--”

“Be quiet!” 

Quentin tunes them out and stares at the bed, sees pale, elegant fingers attached to a hand he knew every line in, a hand that had traced over every part of him. 

He closes his eyes, lets the pounding win.

 

* * *

Soft hands on his back, run through his fingers. Not the hands he wants, but good hands--hands that he’s felt grow up and change since they were kids.

“Q. C’mon. You need to shower.” 

He wants to say,  _ Julia, I don’t know that I can.  _ He wants to ask,  _ julia, if I leave then it’ll be real? _ . He wants to scream and scream and scream because there’s a pounding and a fear and trembling and he’s not sure if it’s a good or bad feeling so he just stays silent because he doesn’t have the energy to speak, not now after they’ve come out of the other side.

So Julia tugs and pushes and he lets her, leans on her as he had so many times because it’s easier than relying on anyone else, especially himself, and they get to the bathroom. Julia’s already gotten it set up with his toiletries and change of clothes and what Quentin knows is the fluffiest, warmest towel in the apartment.

There’s a rush of affection for her that almost drowns out everything else. Almost.

She seems to understand his look anyways, and gives him a soft smile and a softer kiss on the cheek. “Just...we’ll get through this, okay? All of us.” At his nod, she walks to the door. “I’ll have cocoa ready when you get done.” 

The door clicks shut.

* * *

Quentin drags his hands over his face, then squares his shoulders. They are all trying, and Quentin...needs to keep on his brave face. 

He has no idea what that looks like, though.

Unbotton shirt, discard. Unbutton pants, slide off, stumble, regain balance and hiss at the new pain in his hip. Kick them off while holding the sink. Take a deep breath, avoid his reflection, turn to the shower and start the water. 

He doesn’t feel anything, so he turns it up another notch just to be safe before drawing the curtain and putting the showerhead on. He finger combs his hair, wincing as his fingers find snarls, and then he gets into the shower and lets what he is positive should be hot water beat down on him.

For a moment, for just this moment, Quentin allows himself to breathe.

* * *

When he was younger, Quentin loved the water.He could float, he could splash, he could let it kiss his cheeks all day any day.

But as his mind grew up and fractured splintered broke, the water was either wonderful, or it would make his skin crawl as he remembered all the reasons he was useless worthless spineless stupid wrong---

He’d tried to explain it to Julia once, and to his father and therapist and second therapist and the counselors and more counselors but no one had ever  _ gotten  _ it until--

_ “Christ on a stick,  _ Quentin!  _ Think you’ve got enough steam?” _

Quentin stared blearily through the waterfall and curtain. He hadn’t heard the door open, but Eliot’s voice was just on the other side of the barely opaque curtain. Julia must not have locked the door. 

_ Those long fingers curl around the curtain and eyes that Quentin would know anywhere peer in. “You’ve been in here a long time. Penny was starting to mutter about hot water again so I figured I’d check.” _

Quentin stepped out of the downpour and wiped the water from his face, accidentally flicking some onto Eliot. 

_ “Shit, Q, you trying to be a lobster?” Eliot focused and the handle to the cold water moved.  _

“I’m fine. Just needed a shower.” He poured his conditioner in one hand and refused to meet Eliot’s eyes again. Eliot would know, if he did. It was stupid. He always knew, even when Quentin didn’t. 

_ Eliot’s fingers disappeared for a few moments, then the curtain moved again and he stepped in, nudging Quentin further towards the water. “You may get off on the boiling treatment, but my hair needs just above lukewarm. Your hair would thank you more if you listened. _

“You like my hair and you know it,” Quentin murmured, too lost in sensation to even roll his eyes at the old argument. 

_ “Wrong, I love your hair.” Eliot bullied Q’s hands away and took over massaging the conditioner in, working it in deeper and more thorough than Quentin ever remembered to, causing Quentin’s eyes to sink shut. _

For a few long minutes there was nothing but breathing, Quentin bonelessly relaxing under the water and the sounds of Eliot’s little hums as he worked.

_ “Rinse now, there you go.” Eliot manhandled him differently from Julia--There was no pretense at letting Quentin be in control, Eliot just knew what he needed and led him there.  _

Eliot may have guessed before the Mosaic, but afterwards, he knew for sure. What the water felt like, how to help, how to just be there with Quentin, make Quentin feel loved and safe and whole and present and  _ real. _

Until everything went to hell in a castle beyond his childhood dreams, and then Eliot wasn’t Eliot anymore. 

_ Quentin grabbed Eliot’s wrists where he was rinsing the blonde locks.  _

“Eliot. I can’t...You’re really here?”

_ “Quentin--Q, sweetie. You  _ know _.” _

Quentin opened his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> How I wish, how I wish you were here  
> We're just two lost souls  
> Swimming in a fish bowl  
> Year after year


End file.
